Post #32

 


There's lots of 80s stamps in this picture, from the macrame Santa on the door in the background my sister Cindy made - that I have here now and put up every Christmas - to George's 'stache, the ceramic Christmas tree... it's got nostalgia written all over it.
George was Cindy's boyfriend back at the time. He came along right when she needed him the most, I think, handy to the time Dad died, if memory serves me. George was a high school sportsman, raised by an ambitious family and became an electrician; he even built a house on his own to his specs and sold it.
George and Cindy would prove to be inseparable as they later married and still are to this day, quite happily, with two kids and grandchildren.
I remember one particular time when Mom and me were invited to join George and Cindy at his parents' house at Christmas time. I was quite depressed, as I often came to be during the holidays, and took that sulky depressed state to the Mayos house that night. It wasn't a good representation of me. I remember Cindy scolding me for being so downcast, but she didn't get the full scope of my story at the time; neither did most, really. Even me! My behavior, now explained from neurological trauma, wasn't understood at the time by anyone, so I think I was just seen as this spoiled kid that didn't want to be around anyone. Those kinds of assumptions are justified... but today, the 'whys' about that behavior are, too.
Nonetheless, George did try to be understanding as best he could. He'd offer to pay me to help with building his house, and I'd do it and buy myself some real drum sticks, to replace the whittled ones I used to make for myself. George's disciplined behavior clashed a lot with my own too-carefree flippant style, but we all grew to know one another as the years would pass. It's all about growth in the end.

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